


the purl job

by coffeesuperhero



Category: Leverage
Genre: Holiday Fic Exchange, Holiday Sweaters, Knitting, Multi, knitting based puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28377033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero
Summary: As it turns out, Eliot knows how to use knitting needles, and not for fighting.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 28
Kudos: 103
Collections: 2020 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange





	the purl job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BurningTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/gifts).



> Hey BurningTea! Happy Leverage Secret Santa Season! I really loved your prompt about Eliot getting too into some activity or hobby for a job and I hope I did it some justice. Apologies in advance for all the knitting puns? xo, your Secret Santa

"Sounds like a good plan," Eliot said, after Parker finished taking him and Hardison through their new client and latest mark-- Margaret Smith, the CEO of a large and growing yarn company that had pushed their client's indie dye shop out of business.

"What's our in?" Eliot asked. 

" _Well_ ," Parker said, and nodded at Hardison, who pulled up a photo of a Facebook flyer advertising a week-long knitting conference. 

"Welcome to the annual Crimson Heart Purls of Wisdom knitting extravaganza," Hardison said. "Where our mark is scheduled to lead a knitting circle and run a booth." 

"I have no idea where they keep the pearls, but I guess that's not part of the job," Parker sighed. 

"Baby, we went over this--" Hardison started, but Parker waved him off. 

Eliot frowned, but he didn't say anything, so Parker continued. 

"Anyway, it looks like this 'no actual pearls included' conference," she said, making air quotes, "is the best way to get close to the mark. Hardison already got us a booth next to her company's booth--" 

"Oh, yeah, I set us up a fake company. Check this out, I called it _Spin Class_ ," Hardison grinned, and pulled up a logo and website. "It's a fully online digital teaching platform that teaches people how to spin their own yarn."

Eliot's frown deepened, but he still said nothing. 

"Come on, man, really? I worked hard on that," Hardison said, and Eliot just shook his head. 

Parker rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "My point is--" 

Hardison interrupted. "The point is that someone stayed up to make this website and he could get maybe a little more enthusiasm about his fiber arts based puns--" 

"Dammit, Hardison--" Eliot started to say. 

"My _point is_ ," Parker said firmly, "one of us is going to have to learn to knit." 

There was silence for a moment. 

"I mean, not to brag, but your man here can crochet," Hardison offered finally. "I do a mean treble stitch. I guess that's close enough to knitting. It's just an extra needle, no big deal. I'll be a master by morning. YouTube tutorials, here I come." 

"Just because there's pointy things moving yarn around doesn't make crochet anything like knitting," Eliot grumbled. 

"Oh, now you have something to say?" Hardison asked. 

Eliot ignored him and continued. "Knitting and crochet are not the same damn thing, Hardison. Your little treble stitch is not gonna get you anywhere in a knitting circle. And even if it did, knitting circles are about community. You gotta know the lingo. What are you gonna do if they start talking about fingering yarn, giggle like a teenager?" 

Hardison very clearly stifled a laugh, then cleared his throat. "Absolutely not," he said, very seriously. He put his hand over his heart and did his best to look offended. "How dare you accuse me of that kind of immaturity." 

"You laughed for five minutes yesterday when someone mentioned three-way calling," Parker pointed out. 

"In context, that was hilarious, and I stand by that," Hardison said. 

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I can do it," Eliot sighed, pointing at the screen. 

Parker blinked. "You know how to knit?"

Eliot shrugged. "I know enough to fake it. At least if they start talking about Ravelry and Brooklyn Tweed I'm not gonna be totally lost," he said, then scowled at the two of them, sitting there staring at him like he'd grown an extra head. "What?"

"How did you-- when did you learn to knit?" Hardison asked. 

"What does that matter?" Eliot said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I said I can do it, so I'll do it." 

Parker looked at Hardison, then at Eliot, and then back at the screen. "Okay," she said, nodding. "Let's go steal a knitting circle." 

+

The knitting circle that their mark was leading was comprised of seven ladies in their fifties and sixties, along with Eliot and a college-aged hipster who literally rode in on a unicycle, produced three balls of yarn from his messenger bag, and proceeded to try and juggle them. 

"What is going on here," Eliot muttered to the lady next to him. Her name was Gloria. She had fifteen grandchildren, the biggest glasses he'd ever seen, and an expression that looked like she was perpetually sucking on a lemon. Eliot loved her instantly. "Is this a circus?" 

"Oh, that one," Gloria tsked. "Came here last year and tried to teach us all how to do a tubular bind-off, as if we didn't know how." 

"Shouldn't teach your grandmother how to suck eggs," Eliot grumbled, shaking his head. Gloria fixed him with one beady eye for a minute, then smiled. 

"I like you, young man," she said. "I don't know what you're doing here, but I like you." 

"Just here to knit," Eliot said. He leaned in closer. "Unless somebody wants to start a fight." 

"I can see this isn't your first knitting circle," Gloria laughed, and Eliot grinned, but it faded quickly. The hipster had started juggling again. 

"Levi," sighed one of the ladies, setting her knitting down in her lap, "we've talked about this. We're happy for you to be here--"

"Speak for yourself," muttered Gloria, who shared a look with Eliot. 

The first lady cleared her throat and continued. "But you have to leave the unicycle outside and stop juggling the yarn. You remember what happened last year." 

Levi sighed dramatically and put the yarn away. "Fine, Mrs. McLeod," he said, "but don't think I don't know this isn't bicyclist-based tyranny. Two wheels bad, one wheel good!" He pumped his fist in the air for emphasis. 

"Wow," Eliot said, looking at Gloria. 

"Mmhmm," she replied, not looking away from her knitting. 

The mark finally showed up after that, derailing any further juggling, and since Eliot was new, she immediately started quizzing him on yarns and patterns. 

"Don't worry about this, I got you, man," Hardison said, over comms. "I did some googling--"

"Now, personally," Eliot said, ignoring Hardison in his ear, "I'd rather go with a nice DK for that, but the worsted you've got there sounds like it'll do just fine." 

The mark nodded approvingly. "Well, well, I'm impressed," she said. "I didn't know what to expect from the founder of-- what was it? Spin Cycle?"

"Who are you right now?" Hardison asked, over comms. "This is like the country bar all over again. Do you know how late I stayed up googling knitting terms for your macho cowboy ass, and here you are just dropping yarn weights like you drop bad guys." 

"I'm a man of many talents," Eliot said, smiling at the mark, but the comment was clearly for Hardison. 

"Unbelievable, man," Hardison grumbled. 

Conversation in the knitting circle picked up from there, and outside, the con continued. Hardison and Parker did some breaking and entering, and then some hacking, while Eliot sat and counted stitches and talked about the best time to use a suspended bind-off. One of the ladies started humming a song about knitting and purling, and Eliot didn't know it but he picked it up pretty quick. 

"Okay, for the last time: what pearls?" Parker's voice demanded. "I don't see any pearls anywhere, Eliot, are they running some kind of jewelry smuggling operation in there--"

"For the last time, Parker, it's a goddamn stitch," Eliot growled, but he said the last part a little too loudly. The lady on his left, a sweet old gal named Hazel, gasped. He put on his best _Aw shucks, ma'am_ face. "Sorry, Hazel," he drawled. "Sometimes when you drop a stitch you just have to swear a little, or at least that's what my granny always said." 

At that, Hazel grinned at him and reached over to pat his knee. "That's all right, son," she said. "My grandmother said the same thing, when she taught me." 

By the time the circle wrapped, Eliot had made friends with every single grandma and charmed the hell out of the mark, too. He had also knitted two hats with that big chunky yarn that all the trendy knitting blogs were raving about lately, which he tossed at Parker and Hardison when he hopped into Lucille later. 

"Here," he said. "Merry whatever." 

"It's July," Parker said, frowning, but she put the hat on anyway. "Mm. Warm." 

"Very trendy," Hardison said, glancing at his. Parker slipped it on his head while he was driving and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, mama." He threw his hand back at Eliot. "And thank you, baby. Gonna have to stop referring to you exclusively as Mister Punchy Hands, though." 

"No," Eliot said immediately. "You can keep that. I don't need to hear any knitting puns from you, I already got blasted by the damn mark about Spin Class. Spin Cycle's way better, man, what the hell?" 

"Spin _Class_ is better for an online platform of yarn spinning classes!" Hardison insisted. "Spin Cycle is a better name for an actual spin class! Do you want to do my job?'

"Do you want to do mine?" Eliot asked. 

"Sitting around knitting with old ladies? Hell yes," Hardison said. 

"Don't mind him, he's just grumpy because I pushed him off another building today," Parker told Eliot. 

"Yeah, I figured," Eliot said. He pointed at his forehead. "He had that little thing between his eyebrows." 

Parker smiled. "Yeah. It's cute." 

"Be in a relationship they said," Hardison grumbled. "Mutual love and support, they said." 

"Hey, I made you a hat," Eliot said. 

+

In the end, the mark lost everything, their client's business and reputation was restored, and Eliot got to fight somebody with his knitting needles, so they all considered the job a success. But while the job was over after two weeks, the knitting-- that kept going. 

"It's something to do with my hands," Eliot said, when Parker raised an eyebrow at the ball of yarn and knitting needles that Eliot was holding. "Forgot that I liked it." 

"I feel that way about locks," Parker said, after a moment. She sat down next to him on the couch. "And money. But I didn't forget about them." 

"That's not really--" Eliot said, but then he shook his head. "Sure." 

"Can I have another hat?" she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

"This is a scarf," he told her, holding up the knitting. "That's what I'm doing right now. It's for Hardison, so he can add it to his ridiculous scarf collection." 

"Okay," she said, and fidgeted around until she found the tv remote. 

"There's a green hat for you in a box in my closet," he told her, after a while. "I knitted it yesterday." 

"Does it--" 

"Yes," Eliot said, "before you ask, it has a pom-pom, or whatever you call it." 

"Perfect," said Parker, and put her head back on his shoulder. 

+

"Did you send my foster siblings some of your knitting?" Hardison asked one night over dinner. 

"You said they had birthdays," Eliot said, cagily, as he set plates of steak and potatoes and asparagus on the table in front of Hardison and Parker. "It was just scarves, it's whatever." 

"Oh, it was scarves, but it was not just scarves," Hardison said. "Darryl got these fancy arm-warmers that look like something his D&D character would wear, he would not stop talking about it. Myah got like, a lace cardigan thing with a pattern that looked like constellations, they said it was the coolest thing they've ever seen. I didn't even know you do that shit with yarn." 

"You can do a lot with yarn," Eliot said, menacingly. "Like keep people quiet with it." 

Parker squinted at him as she cut up her steak. "Is this one of your things?" 

"One of what things," Eliot muttered, as Parker and Hardison exchanged a knowing look. 

"Yeah, it's one of his things," she said, and Hardison nodded. 

"Absolutely, baby," he agreed. 

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Eliot grumbled, and Parker and Hardison winked at each other. "Eat your steak. The béarnaise is getting cold." 

"This is also one of your things, just so you know," Hardison said, gesturing at the food. "But we love you for it." 

"Yeah, yeah," Eliot mumbled, but they were pretty sure he was hiding a smile behind his beer glass. 

+

When December rolled around, Parker didn't waste a second decorating for the season. Eliot was still on his knitting kick, so she asked him if knitted decorations were a thing; he made a face and said no, but a few days later the desk downstairs had three beautiful cabled stockings hanging from it. Hardison did some research, and a few days after that, Parker slipped a carefully wrapped package of Addi knitting needles into the red stocking that they had designated as Eliot's, and when they unwrapped presents later, he gave them a real smile in return. 

"Here," he said, pushing a couple of boxes at them and waving for them to open them up. 

"Did you-- did you make us sweaters?" Hardison asked, holding his up. It was a beautiful deep red and Parker's was black, with similar cabling and patterns. 

"Who says I made 'em," Eliot said, staring at the floor. "Maybe I commissioned one of the people from the knitting conference. Gloria could knit a mean sweater." 

"I don't doubt that," Hardison said. 

"I thought there was a sweater curse," Parker said. "Hardison found it on the internet when we were researching for that knitting job." She looked dubiously at the sweater. "I mean, I really like this sweater, but if we have to break up because you made it, I don't know." 

"Same," Hardison said. "Seems like a shame though, this is really nice work, man." 

"We do not have to break up," Eliot said testily. "There is no sweater curse. I worked hard on those things. Will y'all try those on so I can see if they fit, at least?" 

Parker looked skeptically at the sweater. "Are you cursed?" she whispered, and pressed it to her ear. 

"Dammit," Eliot said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen to me. Even if there was a curse, which there's _not_ ," he said emphatically, "I'd bet on the three of us before a curse, any day." 

Parker and Hardison did their fist bump thing. 

"This was definitely one of his things," Parker said, tugging the sweater on over her head. 

"Hard to say which one I like better, this or the cooking," Hardison said, and he pulled his sweater on too. "No, that's not hard. The cooking's better. But this is dope." 

"Still don't know what you're talking about," Eliot said, but his voice had gone all soft and maybe a little scratchy, kinda like wool, so no one believed him.


End file.
